


It is what it is.

by sidium



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidium/pseuds/sidium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, things just don't work. No matter how badly you want them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It is what it is.

“I think we need to break up.” 

The words are out of Tony’s mouth before he can chicken out and take them back. For a second, it feels like the words knocked the wind out of him, and he’s the one who said them. Well, you know what they say; it hurts cause it’s true. He takes a deep shuddering breath and keeps going. “For weeks, everything has been… awkward and stressful between us, like something just shifted out of place; and it feels like all we do is fight, and it seems like the only time things feel normal is when we’re having sex. And even I know, you can’t base a relationship on that.”

Tony feels like he’s about to either puke all over himself or curl up into a ball and cry his eyes out. He takes another deep breath and finishes saying what he should’ve said days ago. “And I kept ignoring it, hoping it was just an awkward phase or something, but it’s not. I wish I had a better answer, any other answer, but I feel like we both put this off longer than we should’ve.” 

He finishes his little speech of hell, and looks up from the spot on the floor he was staring at and dares to look up into Steve’s eyes. He remembers, not that terribly long ago, looking at Steve and seeing nothing but warmth, and love, and home. His chest aches when he realizes he still sees the love, but it’s buried underneath sadness, and guilt, and something that looks very much like the acknowledgement of the end of everything they’ve had. And he knows the love he’s seeing isn’t quite the same as the kind he saw before.

“So... that’s it?” Steve asks, and Tony can tell Steve is trying to stay calm and play it cool, but his voice breaks, and Tony sees the water welling up in Steve’s eyes. He wants to pretend he doesn’t, but that just seems cruel. They were together for almost a year, and Steve deserves better than that kind of callousness. He reaches up and wipes a tear off of Steve’s cheekbone as it falls. 

“Are you really surprised?” Tony asks, quietly, and Steve closes his eyes as he shakes his head. “We both saw this coming a while back.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, looking back up at Tony with a look of pure heartbreak. “I was just hoping I was wrong.” He admits, shrugging a little.

Tony sighs and ignores the prickling of tears behind his own eyes. The last thing Steve needs right now is both of them crying. 

“What happened?” Steve asks, suddenly. And Tony wishes so hard he had a good answer. Some event that shifted everything and broke them apart, but the changes were gradual. Practically unnoticed for a long time, unless they were viewed in hindsight; and then so obvious it stung. “When did everything fall apart? I mean, was it something I did?” Steve asks, and Tony winces at the obvious guilt in Steve’s voice.

“No.” Tony says, firmly, putting a hand behind Steve’s neck and pulling them forward to rest their foreheads together. “It wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me. We just… hit a wall. It happens.” 

“We can get around this, though. Can’t we?” Steve argues feebly, reaching up to wipe his eyes before putting his hands on Tony's sides. 

“If we were going to, we would’ve already.” Tony counters gently. “We both kept denying this, and all we did was hurt each other pretending anything was going to change.” 

“I don’t want to give this…” Steve sighs and corrects himself, “I don’t want to give _you_ up.” Steve whispers low, like a dirty confession. 

“I don’t want to let you go, either.” Tony says, wiping the still falling tears from Steve’s face with his thumbs, desperately trying to keep his voice even so Steve won’t know how much Tony feels like he’s ripping his own heart out. He doesn’t want Steve to think this is easy for him, because, Jesus Christ, it’s not. But he doesn’t want Steve to have to deal with Tony falling apart right along with him, either. “But you know as well as I do-”

“This is for the best, I know.” Steve finishes, sniffing ungracefully. He pulls back away from Tony, and his hands fall from Tony’s waist. “We’ll be okay, though, right? We won’t suddenly wake up one day and hate each other? Can’t even be in the same room?”

“I could never hate you, Steve.” Tony says, voice finally faltering against his will, and his finally vision blurs against his will. Fuck this. Fuck life. Why couldn’t this just work between them? First him and Pepper, and now Steve. What was wrong with him that he was so incapable of having a decent relationship, even with the best people?

Steve nods. “Okay.” He takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes again. “That’s… good, then. I’m just... I need to go.” He’s half-running out of Tony’s lab before Tony can utter a word after him. 

“JARVIS,” He says, voice hoarse, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, “How full is the liquor cabinet?” 

“The current contents are at 87% of maximum.” JARVIS answers, in his most subdued tone.

“Good. I’m gonna need all of it.”

\----------

For the most part, Tony’s right. They don’t hate each other, and they can handle being in the same room without any problems. As long as there’s someone else in the room. 

When they’re alone, it’s tense and awkward. Both of them unsure how to interact with the other, and numerous uncomfortable encounters eventually lead to them avoiding one another without consciously meaning to.

Three weeks after the break-up, Clint marches down into Tony’s lab with purpose. 

“Hey, douche-nozzle.” He says, waving a hand, grabbing Tony’s attention away from the screen in front of him. 

“What’s up, Legolas?” Tony asks, gesturing vaguely at a nearby chair. Clint completely ignores him and leans against the desk he’s at instead. 

“This thing with you and Steve,” Clint starts, and Tony feels every muscle in his body tense. 

“Relax, moron. I’m not here trying to get you two back together.” Tony doesn’t relax an inch, just keeps staring at his screen.

“Why, exactly, are you even mentioning it?” He asks, tensely. 

“I need to know how this is going to affect you two in the field.” Clint says, then considers for a moment before speaking again. “Actually, _everyone_ needs to know how this is going to affect you two in the field.” 

“It won’t.” Tony says gravely. “We’ll be the same as we always were.” 

“You’re telling me you’ll be totally fine taking orders from an ex?” Clint asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“You remember Pepper, don’t you?” Tony counters, sardonically. He glares at Clint, wanting this conversation over with as soon as possible. “That’s still going well. And, like Steve, in the end, it’s none of your business.”

“Touche.” Clint admits. “I just really hope you’re right. We can have team members who won’t co-operate. You’ll endanger all of us if you two start getting pissy with each other.”

Tony knows exactly what Clint’s afraid of, he’s afraid of it, too; and he mentally crosses his fingers. 

“What happened between you two, anyway?” Clint asks, faux-casually, looking at his fingernails. 

Tony knows the whole team wonders what ended what seemed like a perfectly happy relationship, and Tony figures they’re all friends and team-mates in this, so he probably he owes them some kind of explanation. Even if it’s a shitty one.

“Have you ever wanted something to work, so badly it make you sick; but it just doesn’t?” Tony says, voice deliberately even. 

“Something like that, yeah.” Clint says, quietly. 

“Well, there you go.”

\--------------

He was right about them in the field. Sort of. 

A couple weeks after his conversation with Clint, complete with more Steve awkwardness; Doombots suddenly appear in Central Park. 

For the most part, it’s the same as it always is. Tony holds the perimeter, Hulk smashes, Clint takes the heights, etc. 

Except, maybe Tony doesn’t check in with Steve as often as he should. And maybe, that’s not such a great idea.

Unfortunately, his lack of communication gets him thrown through two brick walls of an office building because Steve didn’t know to warn him about the particularly well-equipped Doombot he was unintentionally approaching. 

After everything is said and done, he ends up with a moderate concussion, three broken ribs and various bruises all over his body. He’s felt a lot worse, but he’s felt better, too. He manages to avoid medical and makes his way up to his bedroom, but he almost falls on the floor in shock when he sees Steve is already there. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asks, amicably, trying to hide his surprise. 

Steve frowns. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to happen. We agreed we’d be okay.” 

“I thought we would be.” Tony says, limping more into the room and closing the door behind him. 

Steve heaves a deep sigh, and steps closer. Tony jumps when Steve starts to pull up on the hem of Tony’s shirt. “What’re you doing?” 

“I do still care about you, dummy.” Steve says, affectionately, and Tony relents, gingerly lifting his arms, letting Steve pull off the henley he was wearing. The bruises on his torso are already shades of purple and green, and quickly darkening. Tony’s breath catches and he groans as cold is pressed against the worst of it. 

“Shh…” Steve hushes him. “Just an ice-pack.” Tony puts his hand over Steve’s on his ribs and they stand in silence for a long moment. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve says, so quiet Tony almost didn’t hear him. Somehow, he knows Steve isn’t just apologizing for what happened in the field. Tony closes his eyes and leans his head against Steve’s shoulder. He feels the reprieve of something deep inside of himself shifting back, like a joint popping back into place after being dislocated. 

“Me, too.” He says, relief flooding his whole body as Steve puts his hand on Tony’s neck. It’s silent between them, as Steve moves them over to the bed, lying down next to Tony on top of the covers.

They shift carefully around until they’re comfortable, and Tony’s slightly bothered how familiar it feels, like an old habit he thought he’d gotten over. Steve still holding the ice-pack to Tony’s ribs when they finally settle, and they both melt into each other.

It’s still over between them, Tony’s not stupid. He knows this is more closure than reconciliation; but it’s okay. The air between them isn’t tense and uncomfortable. It’s something vaguely close to what they had before, even though it’s not the same at all. 

And this time when he thinks to himself that they’ll be okay, it doesn’t feel like a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> And that, kids, is what happens when you listen to too much Lifehouse.


End file.
